Page 104 of The Sugar and Spice Bookshop Bakery

‘So you say,’ he teases. ‘The story going round the village is rather more colourful than that. Cakes were thrown apparently.’

‘Cakes were not thrown,’ she laughs. ‘Who on earth is saying that?’

‘The police were called. Blue lights.’

‘There were no blue lights.’ She pushes him playfully, her hand on his chest. He takes her hand in his, moves it up to his lips and kisses it.

‘Don’t, Jack,’ she whispers. She knows where this will lead, and whilst she wants that, she knows it will make parting all the more difficult.

He sighs. ‘This is so hard. I don’t want to go, but I don’t see another way. Everyone round here thinks I’m some kind of hot-shot architect, when the truth is that I build sheds.’

‘Very beautiful, unique sheds.’

‘Still sheds. I can’t humiliate him, Luisa. For all his faults, I love him.’

She nods her head. ‘I know.’

There’s a clatter from outside.

‘The A board,’ Louise says, jumping up and going to the window.

‘Just kids,’ Jack says, putting a hand on her arm. ‘Don’t worry. I’ll go and fetch it inside. You stay here in the warm.’

‘Thank you. You’ll need this.’

She hands him the key to the bakery, but then changes her mind and follows him down the stairs and out onto the street, her mind racing. Who keeps kicking the board over? The person who sent that grotesque dog? Or Miss Anderson? She half expects to see her elderly teacher scurrying back into her house, chuckling with glee. But instead she sees Mr Grundy a few doors down, struggling to get his key into the lock of his door.

She thinks back to what her mother said when she first arrived back in Applethwaite, that Mr Grundy was losing his sight.

Whilst Jack takes the board inside, Louise goes to help Mr Grundy with his key. ‘Are you okay, Mr Grundy? May I do that for you?’

He looks at her, squinting slightly. ‘Louise? From the bakery?’

She wants to correct him and say ‘bookshop bakery’, but doesn’t. ‘That’s right.’

She unlocks his door.

‘Thank you, dear. I’m struggling a bit lately. Can’t see so well. I keep tripping over things. Flower pots. Those dratted A board thingies.’

Louise stops. Her hand still on the key. ‘The flower pots… that was you?’

‘I’m afraid so. Terribly sorry. I didn’t mean to knock them over. And your sign there – I’ve done it a few times now. It’s so difficult these days. So many things on the pavement. Don’t get me started on parked cars.’

‘I’m so sorry, Mr Grundy. I never thought.’

‘Don’t worry, dear.’

‘You know, I thought Miss Anderson was doing it deliberately. Being vindictive.’

‘Geraldine?’ Mr Grundy looks genuinely surprised. ‘Why would she do that? She’s a pussycat really, you know.’

‘A pussy cat! Not the words I’d use to describe her, but each to their own.’

‘Is it true that you threw her out of the bakery?’

‘No, it’s not, but I’ve wanted to so many times. She’s never liked me. She was awful to me at school. I wanted to be a writer, but she told me time and again that I wasn’t good enough. I mean, who tells a child that? I don’t get why some people become teachers in the first place.’

‘Ah.’ Mr Grundy nods slowly. ‘Yes, well, it wasn’t her first choice of career.’